


Equally Possible

by GuileandGall



Series: Free To Be [8]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:45:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt from Kakumei: Remy/Matt, with number 13(Sleepy Sex) for the NSFW meme please!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equally Possible

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Lore for the alternative idea. You are, as always, an amazing inspiration. Thanks to Lore and Chy for their perusal of this piece. Appreciated as always

**Equally Possible**

**\---**

_"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible." ~ T.E. Lawrence._

**\---**

The pressure on his chest, gentle yet firm, moved slowly, punctuated by the muted buzz of the zipper on his suit. A wisp of cool air skimmed his bare chest raising gooseflesh and tightening his nipples in the most tempting way. Her light eyes bored into his as she looked down at him. The intensity in her gaze was stifling, like standing in the desert at the height of the day when the sun warmed your skin in an instant and the heat made it hard to breathe.

When the back of her fingers skimmed his jaw, all Matt could do was turn into the touch. Those strong fingers curled under his chin and lifted his lips to hers. That ethereal touch--soft and light with an aching temporality--made his entire body throb. The pang reached deeper than he thought it could.

Uncertain precisely how it happened, his suit seemed to melt away baring his skin to the cool recirculated air of the ship. His skin tightened and stung almost painfully as the chill swept over him causing him to shudder. Remy's smile held a note of darkness as she loomed over him without touching him; her mouth was just far enough that he couldn't even lunge for it.

Staring at her, the boss prowled there, taunting and tempting, as Matt struggled against the growl in his chest, against the desire and hunger, which finally loosed, burned powerfully. Her skin had paled. _The lack of sunlight_ , he assumed. The dark lines etched upon her body told a story no one but her could truly read.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that wasn't precisely true. The face flashed in his mind. Not the face Matt had seen on the ship, but the one that Ultor used in advertising. An imposing figure with a stoic scowl suggestive of the danger Johnny Gat embodied. He and Remy scared Philippe, which was the reason the Syndicate had moved as carefully and precisely as they did. Hell, Johnny scared Zinyak enough that he ripped him out of that plane and held the human in stasis--toying with Johnny for just shy of a decade. Even that had not managed to break the man.

_Seven years_ , Matt thought for a moment. _You were struggling after a handful of days_. Or at least that was the timeline he had assumed.

His eyes returned to hers. He saw that same question again. The challenge for certainty. Remy offering him another chance at an out, even at this moment, was not what Matt wanted to see.

"Please," he croaked. The desperation in his own voice surprised him, even though it coursed through him, chilling him to the bone.

It started with a fingertip, lone and light, drawing across his temple. The heat from her skin burning a trail of fire and lightning across every inch of skin she touched. Her soft lips brought a sigh to his mouth, a bare groan buzzed in his throat as her tongue slipped into his mouth. Her palms on his face and his neck seared him sharply, but that heat was nothing compared to the blaze of her bare body against his.

The sharp keen he heard, an odd mixture of pleasure and pain, as the electricity of her sparked through every nerve of his body, coiling along his spine as his head swam. Even though the sound felt disembodied he knew it to be his own voice that had called out so fervently. He wanted her. He wanted her so strongly it bordered on cusp of need, even though he knew that was merely an illusion conjured by his heart and his addled brain.

Her hips skimmed his in a deliberate motion designed to tantalize, to incite him. He moaned wantonly as she brought his hands to her breasts. Greed flooded him, becoming Miller's primary motivation in that instant. He squeezed, kneaded, pinched, and tugged as her tongue worked against his until he drew a bright gasping sigh from her. He didn't fight the smile of pride that curled his lips as he looked up into Remy's pale eyes that glistened with passion--those eyes whose expressiveness had always fascinated and frightened him.

Matt moved with calculated consciousness, even despite the lurid friction which quickened his breathing as well as his pulse. His tongue darted across his upper lip as her eyes bore into him. The lick was languid and slow as he dragged the flat of his tongue over the patch of pink. His breath and the chill in the room tightened her flesh temptingly. He closed his mouth over her nipple, lathing his tongue over it, swirling and playful.

As he slid his mouth from her skin, Remy pressed against him with determination. The heat was dizzying; the tempting slickness threatened to push him to desperation.

"Remy," he groaned. It was not a statement or a question, nor was it a declaration. It was a plea.

When her hand skimmed a hot trail down his chest, he knew she could be more merciful than most people on Earth had ever given her credit for. She pushed him back against the pillows, following him and kissing him deeply. Matt grabbed at her hips tightly as she sank down on him. Remy was a dizzying mix of heat. Miller held the back of her neck tightly as his tongue penetrated her mouth as her hips rocked against him.

He wanted her, all of her. Every inch. Every breath. And Matt lost himself in that yearning. He coveted her--her taste, her touch, her feel, the sound of her quick short breathlessness as she broke their kiss. His hips pressed upwards into the rhythm the boss set. He could fell that familiar tightness and pressure building beneath the surface.

Wordless gnarring whirled around him. When her body grasped at him, Matt's eyes closed and pressed his head back into the softness as he thrust up into her smooth motions. His fingertips grasped at her with bruising firmness. His body quivered beneath hers, the rhythmic constriction of her pleasure drawing him into that calm dark space as silence crept back.

He kept his eyes closed for a long time, letting his breathing calm again as the movement against him finally ceased. It was the sudden stark chill that opened his eyes. Blinking against the harshness of the blue glow in the cargo hold, Matt dragged a hand roughly through his hair. He grabbed the t-shirt draped over the back of the sofa, swiping his hand before dragging it across his chest.

As he sat up, Matt dropped the shirt on the deck between his bare feet. He stared at the balled up bundle of white fabric as if it held some sort of accusation. With a deep sigh, he leaned back against the couch and pulled the zip up on his suit.


End file.
